


Nes Gadol Hayah Sham

by lostnoise



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Boys In Love, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hanukkah, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jewish Holidays, Jewish Steve Harrington, Living Together, M/M, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Soft Billy Hargrove, Soft Boys, Soft Steve Harrington, Some Billy whump, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnoise/pseuds/lostnoise
Summary: The first December they spend together, Billy wonders, idly, where the Christmas decorations are.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 23
Kudos: 127





	Nes Gadol Hayah Sham

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to see more Hanukkah fics, so I wrote one! As someone who is not Jewish, I get caught up in writing holiday fics centered around Christmas.
> 
> To any and all Jewish readers, from this humble goy boy, Happy Hanukkah!
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

The first December they spend together, Billy wonders, idly, where the Christmas decorations are.

Steve is so festive every other time of the year, after all. The Fourth of July had been a big deal, and Halloween was even bigger. Even in their tiny apartment, Steve manages to pack in a lot of decorations.

And, it’s just... Billy’s mother always put the lights up the first week of December, and she always set up the nativity set she’d made with her own two hands. Billy remembers looking at the soft lines of the ceramic, the blueish stain of the clear glaze, and the light-colored wood of the manger, and thought that his mother was so talented. That she could create beautiful things, was beautiful inside and out.

Neil broke the nativity set the year after she left when Billy tried to take it out and set it up himself. He was able to save the angel, though it sustained a few cracks. For years after, looking at that angel made him think maybe, even if he was broken, he could be one of the beautiful things his mother made.

Then later, with Susan in the house, Billy got used to hearing Christmas music playing the day after Thanksgiving, and decorations in red and green and white covering pretty much every spare inch around the house. Susan had a collection of Christmas decorations up to and including fake pine garland to wrap around the railings, white icicle lights to hang from the top of the porch, and had a fake pine tree she put up every year. When they moved to Hawkins, she insisted on getting a real tree for the first time. Christmas Eve was spent hanging Christmas ornaments together.

So, Christmas has been a pretty constant thing in Billy’s life, and when he and Steve start dating - then move in together only three months after - he expects to see little touches around the house.

A week and a half before Christmas, though, Billy starts seeing things he’s not used to. At first, he thinks Steve just has a different color scheme for Christmas than the usual red and green. Steve gets a navy table runner for their tiny kitchen table, silver pillows for the couch, tiny chocolate coins covered in gold foil littering the table.

He sees a lot of fried foods that go burnt at first until Steve buys a thermometer for the pan of oil. The jelly-filled doughnuts are Billy’s favorite, more than the potato pancakes, and Steve smiles when Billy says so.

“Just like my grandma used to make,” he says in a wistful voice.

At some point, Billy sees a little wooden top come out of nowhere and Steve keeps spinning it and spinning it, seemingly playing a game by himself. What the game is, exactly, Billy has no idea.

The final straw is when Steve procures a candelabra from somewhere in their closet and goes through a long, arduous process to wash it off and wipe it down until it’s a gleaming, sparkling silver again. It’s when Steve is standing in front of their front window, positioning it on the side table he’d pushed over, that it clicks in Billy’s brain.

He’s been such a fucking _idiot._

“Steve,” he finally calls out, standing in the doorway between their tiny kitchen and their tiny living room. Steve looks over his shoulder, flinching slightly, and looking guilty for no reason. Billy visibly softens, a tiny smile curling at the edges of his mouth. “Baby.” He walks over and reaches out to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re Jewish?”

He feels Steve shrug, hears the way his throat clicks when he swallows, and he can tell Steve’s been nervous about this. Even with as far as society has come, there is still antisemitic sentiment in the States. He wonders if Steve thought this might be a dealbreaker for Billy. Like Billy isn’t absolutely head over heels for this man, wouldn’t bend over backwards to make him happy.

Billy’s not just smitten, he’s whipped - and he’s pretty sure this pretty boy is gonna have his heart for the rest of their lives. And Steve makes him want to put in the work and the effort to make it that far just to see it come true.

“Just… didn’t want you to think I’m, like, weird, or whatever.”

“You _are weird_ ,” Billy laughs, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Steve’s neck. “But not for this.” He stands there and looks at the menorah. “Was this your grandma’s menorah?”

Steve just nods and both of them stand there looking at it until Steve slowly relaxes in Billy’s hold. There are a lot of questions swirling through Billy’s mind.

“Will you teach me about it?” Billy asks, voice quiet and gentle, a little hesitant to say it out loud. “About Hanukkah?”

But he doesn’t like being ignorant about things generally speaking, plus wants to support every part of Steve he can. Steve gets to see all the parts of Billy he’s kept as small and hidden as possible, soothes those parts of Billy with sweet words and gentle fingers. Billy wants to be able to do the same.

“You want to learn?” Steve asks. He perks up and looks over his shoulder at Billy.

“Of course I do,” Billy tells him. “If it’s important to you, then I want to learn.”

So Steve teaches him. He teaches him the story of the Maccabean Revolt, the story of the eight days of oil, the significance of the fried foods he’s been trying to make. He tells Billy about the latkes and sufganiyot, both his grandma’s recipes, and Billy helps him make a plate and helps him eat them all.

He licks the powdered sugar from Steve’s fingers, too, and if that leads to sex in the kitchen, well, that’s their own business.

Steve teaches him about the dreidel. Billy learns the phrase that makes up each side, learns the letters and how to say them aloud. He learns the rules of the game and what each letter means, when to throw a coin in and when to collect half the pot, when he wins nothing and when he wins everything. Billy collects some of the chocolate coins he finds around the house, grabs some change too, and shares the loot to play with Steve. They spend an entire evening laughing and spinning and collecting the pot, throwing money in, throwing jabs at each other when they have to toss a coin in or when they get nothing. They play until they’re both giggly and yawning and turn the lights out to curl up in their bed together. 

The first time Steve lights the shamash and uses it to light the first candle, reciting a prayer from memory, Billy feels a strange sense of reverence settle into him. Billy was never actually brought up religious, for all the nativity sets and crosses and pendants in his life.

(Neil Hargrove was not very Christian and couldn’t quite hide behind the other tenants of the religion to cover the fact that he was beating his only son.)

Steve steps back next to Billy and twines their fingers together. “Thank you,” he says softly, glancing over at Billy.

Billy squeezes his hand. “Thank you for teaching me.”

On the eighth night of Hanukkah, Billy comes into the apartment to find a big box on the floor, wrapped in silver paper and topped with a blue bow. Steve stands there wringing his hands behind his back.

“I know you don't celebrate it,” he starts to ramble. “Like, I know you celebrate Christmas, but I wanted you to have something to open. For my holiday. I know it’s a couple days early, but-”

Billy cuts him off with a kiss. “You didn’t have to.”

“We both live here, right? We’re both in this relationship together,” Steve fires back, reaching up to tuck Billy’s hair behind his ears. “I want us both to celebrate and share things that are important. For both of us.”

Billy doesn’t think he’s ever been more in love with Steve Harrington than that very moment.

So, Billy shows Steve the angel.

“I know it’s old and cracked and split,” because by then, some of the pieces had fallen away, couldn’t be glued back on anymore, “but it was my mom’s. Like, she made it. Glazed it, too. Made a whole damn nativity set. She was really talented. She used to let me help her take the pieces out of the box and I’d sit and stare at it for hours. We weren’t, you know, religious at all, or- well, my mom was Catholic.” Billy reaches up where his medal sits warm against his chest. Steve places his hand over Billy’s and squeezes softly. “But I don’t remember a lot of it beyond the story of how Jesus was born. This just… it means a lot to me.”

Steve kisses Billy softly, puts the angel on a little lace doily he conjured out of nowhere, and sets it next to the menorah. With his head on Steve’s shoulder, watching both their traditions come together, Billy feels like a puzzle piece just snapped into place. He feels complete.

He doesn’t need a Christmas tree or obnoxious decorations or holiday music. He’s found his home right next to Steve.

**Author's Note:**

> The title means “A Great Miracle Happened There.” This is taken from the dreidel, which has different Hebrew letters on each side to represent the saying. In Israel, the last letter is changed to represent the word “here” since the miracle happened in Israel!
> 
> The little part about Billy's mom and the nativity set? Totally taken from my own mother who made the nativity set that she still puts up every year, and, despite not being religious at all, I absolutely adore it.
> 
> *Please* let me know if I’ve written anything offensive or overly inaccurate. I’ve only celebrated Hanukkah a handful of times with my friend and her family, but I would really rather not come across as a jerk!


End file.
